


Green is not just for Christmas

by Polarstern (Gelaecter)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 15:58:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2698826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gelaecter/pseuds/Polarstern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are certain things Iceland wants to keep for himself</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green is not just for Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2014 DenIce Fest with the prompt "Secrets"

Iceland woke slightly disoriented, as he always did when he woke up outside of his own bed. He scrunched his eyes against the sun - it’s winter, what kind of joke is this? - and rolled over. The other side of the bed was empty, but the sheets were still warm so he curled into them and buried his face in the pillows with a soft sigh.

There was a bang and a soft curse from down the hall. Iceland cracked his eyes open and yawned widely, stretched, and rolled out of bed.

Dressed, he headed down the hall to the kitchen. Denmark was shirtless, standing at the counter with his back to the door. Iceland paused and stood for a moment, watching the muscles in his back flex as he worked. He turned his head suddenly, grinning brightly when he spotted him.

“Morning, Ice!” The soft sunlight cast a warm, golden glow across his bare skin and glinting through his pale hair. Iceland felt a warm rush of affection for him. “Thought you’d be asleep for a while longer.”

“How can I sleep with you making all this noise?” 

Denmark snorted and turned back to the counter.

“Breakfast is coming, I thought I’d use the rest of the pastry from yesterday,” he said, picking up the rolling pin. “You can go back to bed for a while if you want, I’ll bring it to you when I’m done.”

Iceland opened his mouth to reply but yawned instead. Denmark turned and shot him an amused smile; Iceland just glared back, cheeks colouring. He sat down heavily at the table.

“Coffee.”

“Gotcha! Coming right up!”

Denmark was far too cheery in the morning.

With the coffee pot bubbling away, Denmark turned once again the the pastry and continued rolling it out. Iceland closed his eyes and rested his head on the table.

“Norway called earlier,” Denmark said after a while. He’d pulled the fruit mix from the fridge and begun shaping the pastry. Iceland’s eyes snapped open, shoulders tense. “Wanted to know what time you’d be here, since you weren’t answering your phone. Told him you were supposed to arrive this morning and were probably already on the plane.”

Iceland could see a matching line of tension across his shoulders, and knew if he could see his face there’d be unhappiness written in the tightness of his mouth. He tried to hide it, but Iceland could always see it whenever he had to outright lie to Norway about where either of them were, about what they were doing.

Iceland felt a fierce stab of guilt. It was stupid, really - he’d made Denmark promise not to tell, because Iceland wanted to do it. Which was partly true, he did want to be the one who told him, but they problem was that he also didn’t want to

He didn’t want to tell him. He didn’t want him to  know

Norway was Denmark’s best friend. They knew each other so intimately, there had never been any secrets between them before. Their lives were so closely entwined that it was impossible to even consider one without the other

Norway and Denmark. Denmark and Norway.

They existed together on some deeper level that not even Iceland could ever touch.

And Iceland would never deny that he was a jealous person, it was something he and his brother had very much in common.

When he was young he’d hated Denmark sometimes for taking up so much of Norway’s attention - over time though, that jealousy had taken a different form. And even though Iceland had resigned himself to the fact he’d be sharing Denmark with Norway forever on some level, but he desperately wanted to keep this for himself. Just this tiny piece. Just for a little while, for as long as he could.  


(He’d never asked exactly how  intimate Denmark and Norway’s relationship had been. Frankly, he didn’t want to know)

But every time he saw the unhappy look on Denmark’s face, an expression that should never be there and certainly not because of someone he loves, he might just hate himself a tiny bit. It wasn’t fair on him, and the last thing Iceland wanted was to hurt him. He needed to get over his issues, and he knew it.

Besides, Denmark wasn’t the only one who got frustrated by not being able to relax and show affection like he wanted to, whenever he wanted to. They didn’t get enough time alone together, after all. And since Finland had caught them earlier that month, and there was no chance he wouldn’t tell Sweden, it was only a matter of time before Norway figured it out - he was getting suspicious. Iceland hoped he wouldn’t be too annoyed at being the last to know.

Iceland got up and wrapped his arms around Denmark’s waist, pressing his face between his shoulder blades. Denmark relaxed slightly, but not enough to ease the guilt in Iceland’s heart.

“He’ll be here in a couple hours,” Denmark said, and then continued in a guarded tone that Iceland  hated . “If you want to move into your old room, I can set it up for you. If you want.”

Iceland thought back six months to the last time the whole family had stayed together, at Sweden’s house for Denmark and Sweden’s birthday’s. They’d only been together a few weeks and were still finding their feet, and even Denmark wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell the others yet, so they’d stayed in their usual rooms instead of together. So close, but forcing themselves apart - even back then it had been difficult, now it would be unbearable. His stomach clenched at the thought. He couldn’t do that to them - to Denmark.

He felt the tension returning to Denmark’s body as the silence stretched on, so final he said, firm and clear,

“No.”

Denmark jolted and turned slowly in the circle of Iceland’s arms.

“No?” There was something like hope in his voice.

Iceland looked up to meet his eyes and shook his head. Denmark grinned and leaned down and kissed him, pulling back a moment later and ignoring Iceland’s attempts to deepen it.

“Coffee’s ready,” he said, giving Iceland a soft push towards the table. There was an energy to his movements that had been missing before. Iceland gratefully accepted the mug Denmark handed him, holding it up to his face and breathing deeply. Denmark laughed at him as he slid the pastry tray into the oven before joining him at the table.

“Does that mean you’ll tell him?”

Iceland stiffened, then nodded. “Yeah.”

Tomorrow, he’d tell him.

No. Tonight. Tonight he’d tell him.

And tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and Finland and Sweden would arrive in the morning with the kids, and he’d be able to hold Denmark’s hand, or kiss him whenever he wanted to. No more aborted touches and awkward glances, no more jerking away from each other when a door opened.

Denmark was gazing at him across the table, a soft, fond look on his face, and Iceland suddenly felt uncomfortably emotional. His throat tightened. He would would do just about anything for Denmark to keep looking at him like that forever.

The phone rang, snapping them both out of their almost-trance. Denmark muttered something rude and glanced at it.

“Sweden. Better take it.” He slid out of his seat and left the room, kissing Iceland’s cheek on the way past. His voice drifted back through the house and Iceland just let it wash over him, letting out a sigh of contentment.

He looked forward to tomorrow.


End file.
